Nicholas' Bargain Ch. 03

Resisting the urge to shake her -- or slap her -- Amelia somehow managed to reply in calm tones albeit though gritted teeth, "Hartford is close to seventy and Westerham is a philandering widower with countless children -- and bastards. Be reasonable, Lara!"

A quirk moulded Lara's lips at the girl's appeal. "But don't you see? I am being reasonable for we'll be in good stead, Westerham and I, me being a bastard myself. Indeed, I'm sure he'll feel much empathy for my plight. Now, please, can't you even pretend to enjoy yourself tonight? Your sour mood is beginning to rub off. Oh, what a miserly maid you've become!"

The dart hit home and Amelia made to grab at Lara's arm. "Lara-" but the girl slipped away with a wide smile.

"Now, you've monopolized my time for long enough, cousin," Lara chided, before turning on her heeled slippers. "I have to mingle," she called over her shoulders before striding gracefully out of sight, leaving a heavy-hearted, defeated Amelia in her wake.

*

Too poor. That one had too many older brothers and he liked men...Lara frowned as she considered the elegantly suited men littering the grand ballroom, each one lacking in her eyes. She wanted very few things from a potential husband; he must be wealthy, preferably titled and must adore her beyond all reason and doubt. She wasn't particularly fussy as to physical appearance. Resisting the urge to escape the pace of the ballroom and find a comfortable seat set somewhere quiet and dark so as to shroud herself and become invisible, Lara plastered a smile upon her face as Aunt Cecilia approached her.

She brought with her two men; one, Amelia's older cousin who was no doubt there to make the introductions as an older male was bound to do, and the other...well, she wasn't sure about him though she had her speculations.

"My lady-- allow me to introduce the Duke of Hartford. My lord, Miss Lara Castle."

"It is a pleasure," Hartford smiled, his watery blue eyes becoming hidden beneath folds of skin at the gesture, "and an honour."

"The honour is all mine, my lord," Lara supplied smilingly, resisting the urge to pull away as she accepted his hand just as the current dance ended and the couples filtered away and passed by them.

Her dance card was full to bursting tonight and she felt relief that whoever had requested the next dance had not yet returned to claim it, which was surely a good sign. It was unfortunate that etiquette dictated a lady should always politely accept all offers to dance regardless of how much it aggrieved her to do so.

However Lara had clearly taken comfort in the respite too soon for the man she had been introduced to some weeks ago at some soiree or another and who had earlier asked for a dance now approached with an easy smile. The Duke of Hartford gave him an inquiring look as he stopped before them and bowed in their general direction.

"I have come to claim the next dance, my lady," the man smiled at her, his name evading her, and Lara nodded and murmured an apology to the Duke but he shook his head.

"No matter, my dear; I shall await your return and take pleasure in watching your graceful movements," his eyes dropped and lingered at her breasts, the glint in the pale eyes appreciative and Lara was almost relieved when she was whisked away as the dance began.

*

Feeling mild guilt that she did not recall her dance partner's name, Lara thought on a suitable topic of polite conversation but was interrupted in her musings when her partner bent and uttered just above her ear;

"You know, you're not a bit what I'd imagined."

"And what did you expect, my lord?" she humoured his banter which she was all too familiar with now after dancing and conversing with countless such flirtatious men at countless such mundane balls.

The fair haired man looked thoughtful but she gave him the barest attention as she concentrated on her steps. "Something more...demure. But then I can only go by Nicholas's description and he was quite addled and nonsensical at the time."

Feeling a sharp impact within her -- as if something laying dormant was now frantically rising and awakening once more -- Lara stumbled in her steps and would have lost her footing had it not been for the firm arms holding her at a polite distance as they moved about the floor.

"I've flustered you," the musing tones sounded distant but Lara discerned a note of humour.

Forcing her eyes to rise and meet the face hitherto of little interest to her, Lara demanded in a quiet yet hard voice even as her heart lurched in painful increments, "Let me go." Her immediate reaction then was to run as far as she could from this bright, crowded room and to hide someplace dark.

"Don't be a fool; you'd cause a scene and the lady patronesses would be none to pleased with such undisciplined behaviour," the man advised in amusement, speaking of the matrons who oversaw the prestigious weekly ball but Lara hardly cared for their exalted opinions any longer.

Thirteen months of not hearing his name uttered aloud, thirteen months of those concerned acting like he had never existed and here it was, in a bland ballroom with bland occupants. Nicholas. Nicholas. Nicholas. Her mind rejoiced the name, savoured it. Many months it may well have been since his name had been mentioned but in her mind it was every day. And in her bed at night...his image haunted her. Sometimes to her delight -- but often to her despair.

But through the desperate urge to flee from this mysterious man came a shining ray that leant her hope that had been alien to her these many past months; it hardly mattered to her who -- or what -- this man was. All that mattered now that her mind had calmed and soared was what his presence may mean...had Nicholas returned?

At the thought, her eyes flickered up quickly just as the dance concluded but already the man was moving away and affecting a bow, getting ready to depart.

"Please-" Lara looked at her hands which were shaking and tried to disguise her desperation. "I must speak with you."

"Tomorrow."

At the easy and swift response, Lara murmured with relief that made her weak, "Where?"

"The Craven's Inn. Shoreditch. Festive little pub and inn it is," he supplied conversationally in the manner of one - to interested spectators - thanking a lady for the pleasure of the dance and bidding her a polite good evening, "and always my preferred port of call when I visit - allowing they have rooms," this a little sullenly. "Until midnight tomorrow, then."

The friendly, good humoured tones bemused her. She didn't know of the place but she would find and run to it no matter what. Suddenly, the thirteen months slipped away -- months of hardness and pain -- so that all that mattered in that moment was that she follow her demanding heart. And then, too quickly, the man was striding off - becoming lost and just another face in the streaming crowd of people before Lara had even thought to ask for his name.

*

When Lara had confronted her mother on the subject of her paternity -- and maternity - many months ago now, she had prayed desperately for the older woman to surprise her by denying such a crude allegation outright. At least that way, there would be a shred of normalcy remaining in her life after the other revelations she had been dealt. Instead, her mother had looked at her in horror at the bitter question.

"Where did you hear it? Who told?" had not been particularly encouraging words from the woman she had always known as her mother and it had taken much pleading and then anger on Lara's part before she had relented and told her the truth.

Her mother was a whore who had gladly abandoned her when she had not been able to sway Lord Hampton to do her bidding. The rest was true; that Lord Hampton -- she refused to refer to him as her father both vocally and internally -- had been set to send her to an orphanage before his sister-in-law had intervened. He had been vehement that Lara should not be reared by close family as he had wanted the burden and mistake as far away from him as possible. This part of the bitter take hadn't caused Lara any further pain but her hatred and need for revenge for the man had increased a considerable notch.

After this, Lara had been forced to listen to a passionate lecture by the older woman on the vices in life and the paths of evil. All too quickly, Lara's suffocating and repressed youth and adulthood had become clear to her; her sheltered existence, her parent's disinterest in securing her a martial match or allowing her interest in prospective suitors and men to widen...

Wanton, Elizabeth had cried the word, becoming frantic. Sinful, unholy...all traits that you had to be saved from - running so deep in the blood from both parents, she had declared wildly. It was then and there that Lara had felt the previously hesitant urge within her to let her voice be heard finally break - for the first time in her life, she felt indignation push her into action.

She would become a wife by the next season no matter what, she had promised her mother in hard, bitter tones. It was no longer a want and a desire but a necessity - for she no longer belonged nor had a right to this family. She felt like an intruder in her family home from then on and a desperate urge to flee and find security had grown within her and become more potent as the months passed. An urge to prove herself -- to many different people.

Perhaps she was wanton like her mother - deceitful and greedy like her father - but if this were truly so then there was little point in delaying the evitable any longer. She would show Arthur Hampton; she would marry a man more powerful than he could ever dream to be and bring him down. And by doing so she would carve a name and place for herself and erase the fact that she had ever once desired someone so badly that even now she was sick for him and her need for him. For she must surely be her father's daughter with this incurable need she had within her. A need for a creature not of this earth but for a creature of darkness, a Demon.

*

"Will you receive callers today, my lady?"

Lara looked up, distracted, and shook her head at the waiting maid. "Not today, Agnes...please tell the gentlemen that I apologize for any inconvenience."

The maid stared at her in surprise, for usually Lara made an exhibition of receiving her male callers, dressing with utmost care and charming them with fluid ease. But the thought of having to entertain such visitors today filled Lara with a feeling of nausea and she kept to herself for the rest of the day, refusing her Aunt's offer of a shopping spree in Piccadilly. She was eager for the hour to approach midnight and felt a deep restlessness within her.

Evening soon arrived and Lara breathed a sigh of relief as the activity in the household died down. With Lord Hampton away at his country manor in Lancashire -- overseeing urgent matters that had arisen with the estate, he had gruffly explained to his indifferent wife, before disappearing post-haste some months ago -- the townhouse was far more serene.

Soaping her arms as she reclined in the bath now, Lara shivered as a mild breeze caused gooseflesh to pattern her skin and her nipples hardened in response to the coolness. Despite herself, she felt a warm, melting arousal in the region of her body settled below the gentle slapping of the water against the white bathtub. The candles flickered softly and cast shadows against the walls and Lara's eyelids fluttered closed as she gave into the tormenting images vying for her attention; Nicholas. His hands moulding her skin, his lips tasting and nipping at her, his eyes hot and bright with passion - glazed in lust. He was so handsome that she recalled how difficult she had sometimes found it to meet his direct regard and cursed herself for the girlish folly. Looking back, she could not quite believe how young she had appeared back then and wished now that she had keep her eyes as wide as humanly possible so as to confine his face to memory; his face in the moment had had suckled on her breasts and his face in the moment when he expertly massaged her labia. What had his eyes reflected, what had his mouth suggested?

If you were here...her mind mused, then I could satisfy this burning ache within me. Oh, if only you could be here. Nicholas. The constant, unrelenting ache that demanded he fill her assailed her now. Keeping her eyes shut and allowing herself to be swept away by the warm, drugging water, Lara cupped a breast but it was his large hand that held her, and his capable fingers that rubbed at a beaded nipple and when she allowed herself to really let go then she could almost swear that the memory of his lips upon her was no memory at all but a tangible thing; the trace of his tongue around her areola before the rhythmic flicking against her tightly bound nipple. His large, slightly roughened fingers smoothing down stomach, her abdomen, slipping beneath the water, the dark hairs of his wrist brushing against the inside of her thigh before he firmly clasped her mound and pressed into her, separating her slick folds with his hard fingers. And then he was circling her opening with the pad of his index finger as he gathered the moisture that flowed from his demanding caress, using it to enter her slowly. Beneath the water, as if in a daze, Lara spread her legs to accommodate the demand of the instant pressure as it entered her. Slowly, slickly the hard finger penetrated her but with considerable patience and tenderness...arching her back Lara cried out in alarm as recognition came to her from the burning sensation between her thighs. Touching her tender mound beneath the water, she lifted her hand to reveal a finger marred with a light red stain.

Lara sat up and clasped her knees to her chest feeling stunned as she sat in the tub of rapidly cooling water. After some time, she climbed from the bathtub, her legs weak, and feeling yet shaken she clumsily dried and dressed herself preparing for dinner, her body crying out for fulfilment but only from a certain man. I am hopeless, she thought. Utterly beyond all hope.

*

Fleeing Amelia's townhouse hours later had been easy enough for the loyal and secretive staff were no doubt used to the scandalous goings on of Lord Hampton and his promiscuous daughter -- and wife, Lara had come to learn of her aunt's preference for young and dashing and sexually eager lords fresh out of Oxford or Cambridge -- and so the maid who had been assigned to her for the duration of her stay had not questioned or raised brows when Lara had ordered a stealthy carriage to deliver her to her destination. Plus, with Amelia being more and more inclined to hole herself up in her room as soon as dinner was over every night, it meant that it was a doubly uncomplicated to her destination on the night following the ball.

At precisely eleven twenty, Lara slipped out of a servant's entrance and into the night, reciting the address of the inn to the coachman who met her instructions with a total lack of dismay at this young lady of good breeding asking to be whisked off to such a dubious location.

And dubious it was. Entering the over-stuffed pub a short time later had been a battle as Lara had sought to weave her way between the chortling and intoxicated men indulging in cheap ale and spirits. But when she had sought out a serving girl, she had been quite at a loss at what -- or who, to ask for -- and it wasn't long before the woman had lost patience and sauntered off, leaving Lara where she was now.

"Can I get you a drink, girl?" a gravely voice jerked her out of her hurrying thoughts.

Hovering by a wall, Lara cringed away from the sour breath and declined in firm tones.

"Eh? What's a fancy bit of fluff like you doing in here?" the man's ears pricked at the perfect diction.

"As a matter of fact, I am to meet someone who is boarding here," she said in cool tones, realising too late how telling that sounded and at the man's leer she sighed impatiently, though much of it was at herself.

A hefty serving woman thrust a mug of beer at the man then and Lara quickly sought her attention, futile a chance it may be.

"I was wondering if you could help me -- you see I'm looking for a gentleman who is currently boarding here; very tall, long blonde hair, brown eyes..." she trailed off uselessly but the matron nodded along as if she knew perfectly of whom it was she was referring, even if she was a little indifferent.

"Milord said if a posh bird was to come in looking lost, I was to tell her to go straight up -- and it ain't often we get many of your sort around here," she grinned, showing a set of teeth varying in colours. "Up you go, room seven."

*

The narrow hallway was lined with thick heavy doors and Lara peered down the darkened space warily. The noise from the pub was muted and with some dubiousness as to the intelligence of her decision in coming here and even entertaining this strange man, Lara gave a smart knock upon the door in front of her before she could change her mind.

"Come in, come in," a voice hollered, and when Lara tried the knob, the door swung open on a wide arc and she eyed the seated figure within cautionary, not moving an inc. "Well, come on in -- I don't bite."

The flash of white teeth that accompanied that laughing statement sent an icy shiver through Lara but she nodded determinedly and stepped across the threshold, closing the door behind her. She looked about hesitantly at the rumpled bed sheets and expensive clothes strewn over the floorboards.

"Forgive the state of the room," the man relayed, following her eyes. "I never have enough time in your world to sate my desires so I must indulge in my pleasures in a limited time frame. Mortal women," he said with relish, "are my addiction."

Lara ignored the crude words and strove for a calm and control she was far from feeling as the words she longed to blurt out danced on her tongue. "Nicholas -- is he here?"

Brown eyes narrowed at the appeal in her voice. "No."

A sinking feeling of disappointment and hopelessness weighed her down and Lara felt almost bereft when all these months she had felt nothing but hatred and contempt for the man. And desire. And desperation. But no fear, never that, strangely...

"You've been following me - why?"

"I was curious," and at Lara's inquiring look, he continued, almost reluctantly, "curious to see the female who had snared and destroyed my friend's heart -- and mind, by the looks of things," he muttered the last. "You appear stunned. At what part, might I ask?"

Lara shook her head wordlessly. "This must be a game - a trick by Nicholas!" she breathed, backing away one defensive step for his approaching.

"Calm down," the murmured voice soothed before becoming thoughtful. "Why did you come here? For what purpose?"

"You said-"

The man shook his head. "I merely mentioned the name that so stunned you -- you sought me out for a certain reason, no doubt...?"

"Because you've been following me," she reminded him stubbornly.

"Hmm. He said you were proud and spirited. Beneath the natural submissiveness."

Lara blushed. "He -- seems to have said quite a lot," and her tone questioned why that was.

"Didn't I say you'd addled his mind? You know," he walked away from her and fell onto the bed, crossing his bare feet at the ankles and resting his head in his hands. He fixed her with a musing look, "he really is in a state -- of course the loss of the human sacrifice will have played a part in weakening him but still - he's really no fun to be around at the moment and I blame you thoroughly."